A Matter of Time
by Isis1
Summary: LindaGribble Jr. fic. She always saw herself as unique, and sometimes went out of the way to be so. Never did Linda think she would fall into the role of liking the sterotypical "bad boy."
1. Default Chapter

The restrooms of Port Aransis high were open, yet not so open that they left no cover. There were walls, doors, and of course locks, but it still left a feeling of un-easiness in Linda Twist. It was during lunch that she usually found her solace in conversing with her best - only friend, Fiona. But, ever since she admitted her feelings toward Pete, there just did not seem to be time for Linda. Lunch time became Fiona and Pete time.

Linda swiftly made her way past her class mates, when the lunch bell rang. Dodging an open door, weaving her way in and out of bodies, she finally came to the restrooms. On her right were the ones she scanned first, then the ones on the left; the boys restrooms. The smoke coming from within them did not register in her mind, at first. All she cared about was getting inside, and lighting her own cigarette.

As she leaned against the far wall, Linda stared blankly at the few sinks in front of her. Her hands ritualistically sought her pack of cigarettes that she kept in her bag, and the same with her zippo lighter in her front jeans pockets. The nicotine washed over the teenage girl as waves do on a beach; tranquility.

The sound of the door swinging open never came to Linda's ears: all she cared for was the cylinder stick in her hand. Her head was cast down, beholding nothing but a bit of stained white porcelain, and dirty floor. But, the sound of footsteps did come to her, causing Linda to swiftly jerk her head up. Her first thoughts were that it was an administrator, or worse - her Brother Pete.

Linda recognized him completely. Then, she realized the smoke coming from the boys bathroom was from him: a fresh cigarette dangled from his lips. James Gribble, Jr. stood casually, taking in the sight before him. He could remember the first time setting eyes upon her. The way her face never held any make-up at all, or how her hair was nonchalantly brushed. Never had any beauty products come in contact with her skin, or hair - at least none that he knew about. But, at the sight of her

smoking, just as he had been - James became even more enamoured with her.

"Gribble," Linda acknowledged him as she would a rat crossing her path.

"Twist," he used the exact same tone she had.

He strode towards her, and for the first time Linda saw him as something other than an enemy. It was not that she loathed him, because she did not. But, she felt that with the entire rivalry thing going on between him and her Brother, she needed to feel some sort of animosity toward him. The grey day allowed little light for them to see one another's features cleary, yet both girl and boy studied each other.

Linda suddenly felt trapped, as Gribble neared her. He stopped shortly before her, smirking broadly at the fear that had crossed her features. If one had looked at them four years ago, one would have seen thin, scrawny fourteen year olds. Now, though, Linda was seventeen, while Gribble held some months over her at eighteen. Both had grown taller, with Linda having a curvaceous strength about her; after all, she had kept up with her Judo. Gribble, however, was a good seven inches taller than her, with an attractive litheness about him. All in all, they both found each other undeniably attractive.

"My lighter just emptied out on me. Got one?" he asked, glancing at the zippo still in her hands.

Hesitantly, Linda handed it to him. A chill ran up her spine as his fingers brushed against hers. Within seconds, James had the cigarette lit, then leaned against the wall beside her. Momentarily, she forgot that she was suppose to hate the boy next to her. From the corners of her eyes, she stole glances of him. There was so much tension at the moment between them, that Linda felt she would drown. His eyes were blue, Linda noted, but so dark that one would mistake them for brown. And, his hair - his hair . . . she loved his curly hair that seemed untamable.

With a frustrated sigh, Linda propelled herself off the wall. She found a sink worthy of sitting on. Once again, Linda hung her head, paying direct attention to the floor, and her now swinging legs. James watched every movement, feeling very much in power that he could make her so nervous. He could not recall a time that she had not been calm, and collected. It was strange to see a slight blush on her cheeks, and legs that moved to an fro. It was all the more funny to him to see Linda on a sink no less.

A practiced flick of his wrist, and the cigarette hit the wall. He too, pushed himself off the wall. James had no idea what the hell he was doing when he came to rest directly in front of her. He had seen the girl in action, and he knew that if she wanted to, Linda could kick his ass. Yet, he continued to watch her with her entire body slouched.

At long last, did Linda raise her head; brown eyes met blue ones. Neither could bare to turn away from one another. For those few minutes in the restroom, the things that James had done seemed insignificant. It was simple: boy sees girl, boy wants girl; girl sees boy, girl wants boy, but girl cannot have boy, because her older Brother by thirteen minutes is insane.

In one swift movement, James roughly parted Linda's legs, slipping his lean body between them. She gasped at his sudden movements, but her feeble protests were cut short by his lips upon hers. It was her first real kiss . . . well, what she considered a real kiss: lips, teeth, and tongue. James tasted cheap menthol smoke, while Linda could recognize a more expensive tobacco. He slipped a hand up her skirt, coming to rest on her thigh. Linda felt goose flesh devour her skin.

Silently, she damned him for having such an effect on her. All those years of trying to hate him - of taking up for her Brother - of pretending not to stand the boy . . . and, now the simplistic snogging session seemed as natural as breathing. Linda crept her hands along his shoulders, then one found his mess of hair. She slipped her left arm under his shirt, scratching lightly at his abdomen, then moved it to his back. Surprising herself, Linda wrapped her legs around James, pulling him as close as possible.

Then, the door to the restrooms burst open with an extremely boisterous slamming noise. It took a few moments for James and Linda to pull away from one another, but once they realized that they were not the only ones in the room, their lips left one another. Yet, Linda kept her legs wrapped tightly around him, attempting to grasp the remnants of his presence. In all her glory, stood Linda's step-mother, Faye Jameson.

Faye Jameson was beyond shocked to see what she had just walked in on. The smoke billowing from the open restrooms, let her know, that yes, there was a rule being broken. And, it was not as if she had never caught students necking, but the two she did catch . . . Faye near forgot to breathe. Long had Faye known that her step-son, and James Gribble, Jr. hated each other. She never realized that her step-daughter would allow hormones to take her over, and fall for the . . . Then it came to her: Linda liked the sterotypical "bad boy."


	2. ChII

"What were you thinking?" Tony Twist practically screamed at his only daughter.

"I don't know," she mumbled, aware that Bronson and Peter were eve's dropping.

"Oh, that's right," he bit off, sarcastically, "you weren't thinking. Smoking? Linda, what about your health: you always preach about how much Judo taught you . . . "

"All right - all right," Linda said, standing up from the kitchen table, "I get it. Smoking bad - drugs bad - alcohol bad; I don't need another lecture!"

With that she ran up the stairs, tears dripping from her eyes. Pushing past the bewildered Pete and Bronson, Linda rushed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Instantly, she locked it, then flung herself face down on her bed. Her tears soon subsided, leaving her with blood shot eyes, and a very wet pillow. She felt as if her Father had just evolved into the biggest hypocrite ever: he smoked until her Mother had died. And, her Mother smoked on occasion, as well.

Linda wished she was more like her Mother more than ever. She was not a beautiful woman, but others followed her because she knew what she was talking about. Even though her Mother smoked, everyone loved her. Linda could remember the way Maeve Twist always smelled of Irish Spring soap, with a hint of menthol cigarettes. So, Linda only used that particular soap; smoked only that particular brand of cigarettes. It was her own small way to pay homage to her - the only way she could think of.

Two hours later, a knock came on the door to the Twist house. Pete was currently eating a bowl of cereal, waiting for his shirt to dry. He ambled to the door, sleepily, a yawn escaping his mouth. Pulling the door open, he gaped at the person that stood before him. Never - ever, did he expect James Gribble, Jr. to be knocking on his door; Pete expected that James would barge in un-announced. That, or never be there in the first place.

"Gribble?" Pete asked, befuddled completely.

"Twist," he answered, shoving past the blonde boy.

It took a moment for Pete to gather his composure. Then, he whipped around, slamming the door. James now sat at the kitchen table, helping himself to the box of cereal on the table. He munched obnoxiously, smirking at Pete. Pete was at loss for words. A while ago, James had helped him try to keep his house, but within days, they were back to being arch-rivals.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pete finally managed to ask, in an outraged tone.

"Not for you, that's for damn sure,"

"Daddy trying to get you to make us sale? He can't even do his own dirty work, can he? Nothing but, a rich, bastard,"

James' face turned dark. He took a deep breath, attempting not to bash in Pete's head. In truth, James knew that his Father had little to no feelings when it came to business. And, for a fact, James could have really cared less. However his Father got the job done, was insignificant: James had everything he wanted, and much more - save maybe for one thing money could not buy . . .

"Know what they say?" James asked, rhetorically, "Like Father, like Son."

"You're not as dumb as you look," Pete scoffed, "what'd you want anyway?"

"Your Sister,"

"What?"

Pete studied James' countenance closely, looking for any sign of mischief, or something of that sort. Yet, he found nothing but the most serious of expressions. Frowning, Pete took a seat at the kitchen table. So, commenced a glaring contest between the two young men.

"Didn't you hear me, you dumb wop? I want to see your Sister. Now be a good boy, and fetch," James grinned.

"She's grounded, asshole," a twitch formed under Pete's right eye.

"Don't see dear ole' Dad around, he'd never know,"

"Linda hates you - I hate you - everyone hates you, so knick off, Gribble!"

"Oh," James inquired, raising an eyebrow, "is that so? She didn't tell you about this afternoon then, huh?"

"What the hell are you goin' on about?"

"I got the same death sentence as she did - suspended for the rest of this week,"

"So? What of it?" Pete was growing impatient by the moment.

"We were . . . "

Linda awoke to the sounds of breaking glass, and miscellaneous objects being broken. Tumbling from her bed, Linda trudged out of her room, and down the stairs. Instaneously, Linda beheld her Brother, straddling James - strangling him. She saw James' face more red than she had ever seen it. Her heart flew to her throat, with the thought of him dying.

She flung an arm around Pete's neck, dragging him off of James. Pete protested at first, then shoved himself out of her grip, once he knew who it was. He turned swiftly around, scowling at her with an unknown look of aggravation. Linda crossed her arms across her chest, glancing at James who was now removing himself from the floor.

"I was in the middle of something," Pete growled, looking directly at James.

"Murder," stated Linda.

"Damn right," answered Pete, "if you'd heard what he said he did . . . "

"Every word he said was true, Pete,"

"But - you would never let him touch you!" Pete blanched, "Would you?"

"Knick off!" and, she grabbed James by the arm, dragging him off outside


End file.
